All the King's Men
by aithomenos
Summary: The world, post-meteor and geostigma, is rebuilding and so is ShinRa. Following its young President’s ambition, the Turks pledge their undying loyalty. With an unexpected revelation, the course of their lives changes in both small and profound ways. WiP
1. Prelude

**All the King's Men**

**Fandom:** Final Fantasy VII  
**Characters:** Elena, Rufus, Tseng, Reno, Rude  
**Rating:** M

**Disclaimer: **Property of Squaresoft. No money is being made off this.

**Summary: **The world, post-meteor and geostigma, is rebuilding and so is ShinRa. Following its young President's ambition, the Turks pledge undying loyalty. With an unexpected revelation, the course of their lives changes in both small and profound ways.

**Prelude**

The WRO was the de facto peacekeepers of Gaia, but that didn't mean they were the sole military power. The world hadn't ended with meteor attack—that just destroyed Midgar and the old system the old way of doing things. What had happen had been simply change; a vacuum where once a mega-conglomerate once stood. Now, instead of one power, the world was divided. Countries were forming. Wutai, for example, had in the span of five years, started reimplementation and—practically from the ground up—rebuilt their armies and navies. Politics, diplomacy, all the stuff pre-ShinRa era history recalled.

Of course, everyone wanted for world peace, being so close to the brink of oblivion. But, truth was (and ShinRa knew this), so long as humanity existed, they'd find a way to start up conflict, to find differences, beget war and strife, then come again to exterminating themselves. WRO, for now, was the thin medium that kept everything in check…

And as the world was rebuilding, so did ShinRa. The process was slow and painstaking, but the corporation—what was left of it—always believed in the will to power.

_Nibelhelm_

The ShinRa-owned quarters were left in seclusion. No one in that town wanted anything to do with it. There was just too much stigma in little villages like this. So ShinRa's secrets were kept well preserved in the now-defunct Mako factories.

The sound of a rotor blade slicing to air. Chur-chur-chur. Rapid fire as the helicopter arrived above the factory in the mountains.

Inside, three members of the Turk were getting ready to deploy. The mission, as most of their missions were, was classified as covert. Descend, secure, and locate the files—those research files tucked in the bowels of the factory.

ShinRa, being so mistrusted, couldn't just walk in through the front door of the town anymore—even if this was their property.

"The terrain won't allow me to land."

"Then stay above here, yo." Reno shouted back to the pilot, who gave a thumbs-up in response.

Elena secured the harness to herself as she watched the other two get ready themselves.

Rappelling down mountains, cornering enemies under gunfire, jumping out of helicopters strapped to one lifeline—yes, this was all terribly exhilarating. And damn well why she chose this profession in the first place. Still, it didn't stop the butterflies or the nagging doubt that this time—maybe this time…the rope would snap or the bullet would find its mark or, or, or…

"HERE WE GO!" Reno threw up his hands, grabbed a hold of Elena and chucked her out helicopter.

"WAHHH!!!"

He followed after her. Then Rude. All three landing safely in the soft snow.

_Check yourself! All limbs still intact? Yes, yes, yes._

Elena let out a sigh of relief, and recovered her wits about her. Then she reeled around and grabbed Reno by the tie of his suit, "What the hell?" she demanded--her face flushed with fear and anger, "I told you before! I'll jump when I'm damn well ready."

"Which would've been never. Am I right or what, Rude?"

"Huh? Oh, right."

"See?"

Elena shook her head. These guys were hopeless. "Whatever. Let's just hurry."

They were soon at the front entrance and Reno was muttering to himself, "Please still work." He was referring to the code machine that sealed the door shut. No retinal scanners--this factory was an artifact.

Reno dialed in the code given through the earpiece—information relayed by headquarters. There was a beep, then click, click, HISSSSS….

As cool smoke and plumes followed the mechanical door opening.

Elena, to the radio, "Entrance secured. We're mobilizing to the interior. Keep a check on us."

Hiss. Radio back, "Roger that."

Once inside, the Turks were on alert. Flashlight and guns welded out and in front of them as they consciously walked through the dark corridors of steel girders and pipes. Remnants. There could still be monsters here.

The three formed a triangle, backs protected as they headed towards their destination. Another room, sealed. The most important room of all.

Bleep, bleep, bleep. Reno fumbled with the number pad. "Damn."

"Come on, Reno," Elena shivered, "This place is giving me the creeps."

"What? Is the little baby scared?" Reno stuck out his tongue. "Calm down. I almost got it…There…"

"Whoa…it's so…it's so…" Elena took it in--the small cramped workstation of madmen, now abandoned and left in derelict. Mice wouldn't even camp out here.

"Dusty." Rude said as he walked in first.

Elena bleep her radio again, "We've located the mother-load. Should we discard Mako-only related files?"

Rude and Reno were already digging. Pulling out drawers. Emptying boxes. Getting their hands dirty as they started flipping through the cabinets. Thousands of yellow folders that were—thank the Gods—categorized.

"No," the static'ed voice on the radio answered back. "Just the weapon research. If it's Mako-related weapon research, then fine, make an exception. The rest just ignore."

"Yes, sir." She turned to her companions, "You heard the man."

Reno looked up, flashlight in his mouth and made a muffled sound.

"What?"

He shook his head and took out the flashlight. "I said, we're not deaf, yo. Now get your ass in here and start digging."

It turns out; there was only five boxes worth of files they were looking for. Lucky for them since it didn't take much time to unload outside. They strapped harness onto the containers and sealed them for delivery before making a signal to the 'copter to, "Haul em' up." As Reno would say.

And they were standing below watching with a sense of accomplishment as the last of the boxes was being lifted up. There was a mini-celebration. A congratulations of sorts. Reno, the senior of the group, patted the junior of the group on the back. "Nice work, Elena." He looked to the other man—the one with little words, and added, "You too, Rude. We'll go back, and get cake."

Elena rolled her eyes, "We're not five, you know?"

Rude. Stoic Rude. Even he had to smile a little; today was an easy mission. Still, there was reason to be happy.

Reno laughed, and—for some reason (maybe it was mechanical?)—he kept up patting Elena lightly on the back. That when she noticed it, the first upchurning in her stomach.

Rude caught it first: the way Elena's body slightly hitched forward and she rubbed her hand on her chest as if upset by something.

His eyebrow raised in concern.

On the other hand, Reno, smiling, was busy watching and waving at the helicopter, pulling in its load that he didn't notice: the little hiccupping sound of the coworker besides him until…

"Wahh…" And out it went. Elena's entire breakfast content all over Reno's—

"My dragon skin BOOTS!!! Oh god. Elena?!?"

Scrambled eggs mixed bile and spit coated the sheen of those nice, green leather hide. Reno fussed over them while a pale-faced Elena muttered, "Sorry. I don't know…"

And she was cut off by another sudden bout of regurgitation. Again, same direction.

"Aw, man! Ugh…" Reno looked about ready to weep over his very, very expensive boots.

"Mako poisoning?" Rude asked surprised as he bent over to check Elena. The poor woman just put her hands up to indicate that she was fine. Shook her head and grabbed the harness, before buckling herself in.


	2. Chapter 1

**All the King's Men**

**Fandom:** Final Fantasy VII  
**Characters:** Elena, Rufus  
**Rating:** M

**Disclaimer: **Property of Squaresoft. No money is being made off this.

**Chapter 1**

The empire was before him. The spread of Neo-Midgar was beneath the glass pane of luxury restaurant, fifty stories above the earth---realized only after abandoning the remains of the old….

There, in the ruins of the sad city left demolished in Meteor's wake, only the Edge thrived. Midgar needed a new future, a new vision. No half-retarded wake of a phoenix could compare. So Rufus shifted his expansion to the West. Not only a fresh change of scenery, but to make the statement that this was a new beginning. That the dynasty hadn't died. No, ShinRa was still powerful, but now it had to negotiate its power. Now, there were limits.

So, no, Neo-Midgar wasn't built on the promise land (if there was ever any such thing?). But it was built and finished, and even expanding nonetheless.

The funds of the old world helped the new. Thousand of investment options, research, favors; Rufus had, with such effort and pain, stocked them up to be used in these trying times. When the ashes were still warm.

The woman besides him chuckle. Saying, "Rufus, you're so serious! It won't do. You'll get wrinkles before your age."

So, he thought, _the name ShinRa still had its currency._

After all, people still believed in the old because it was familiar (even if they were betrayed by it). And there was that whole idea of legacy and legitimacy.

He smiled at the woman. A superficial, charming and somewhat wicked smile that melted her like butter—she couldn't sense the venom and seething ambition beneath it; the whole point of seeing her now.

"I'll call for some alcohol," he suggested.

Something to loosen the tongues, then maybe later…

The shirts and the clothing…

More currying of favors. And the woman was beautiful. Round, supple breast. Ample hips and good height---legs on end; and thankfully, like most others in her class, vacant in the brain. Still, being the daughter of an influential politician had its advantages and Rufus was interested in those advantages, even if it did mean…

Underneath the table, Rufus' hand glided up smoothly on her thighs. A lascivious gesture that had her flushing. She exclaimed, her face twisted in a way that admonished him playfully, "Naughty, naughty boy. I didn't know it was time for dessert already."

"Dessert?" He played along. "My dear, this is just the appetizer."

He leaned in and sucked gently on her earlobes, causing her to shiver. And Rufus reflected on what a sonofabitch he was.

* * *

There as shuffling. The sound of plastic wrapping being torn open and someone heaving in desperation. In disbelief, even.

Twenty hours after returning from the mission in Nibelhelm, Elena was squatting—quite ungracefully—on the toilet in her small apartment bathroom. Besides her, inside the sink (there wasn't any room for a counter), was a discarded box and plastic wrapping dumped haphazardly there.

And Elena looked panic.

What had tipped her off to doing this, she had no idea. A hunch, maybe. Silly and enough to disregard, but she didn't.

She had heard another female Turk remarked, offhandedly in a joking manner: "Morning sickness?"

"Ahhaha," Elena waved her hand dismissively, laughing it off.

But then she found herself later in the convenience store running a tab of twenty gils for home pregnancy testing. You know, one of those, instant deciders-of-fate things…

The type that keeps you up in the middle of the night, pale-faced and wondering, _what the hell did I do?_

And she had been so careful!

Her watch alarm rang and she beeped it off, dropping her feet to the ground and then, taking a deep breath, she peered at the result—a tiny green line. No, two tiny green lines.

Elena tossed the stupid stick aside (what does a pee stick know anyways?). "Damn thing's broken!"

Then she looked again to the discard bin, and at twenty other broken pee sticks. And suddenly, she can't breath; the room felt hotter, warmer, stuffy like they were in Costa del Sol on the beach.

The air conditioning was still on…

She checked the box, reading the instructions again for the twelve hundredth time. And the facts, the totaling data had such incredible weight—they were staring at her right back. The only question now was what to do. Elena put her hands on her face and groaned; she really didn't know what.

* * *

"The President, please."

Regina, Rufus's pretty, pretty little secretary looked up from her computer (and the exciting game of solitaire), to see Elena looking down at her, expectant.

"I'm sorry," she responded, "is he expecting you?"

"Well, no…" Elena admitted.

"I'm sorry, Elena. He's in with a meeting with an investor at the moment. Maybe if you come back at 3? I'll pencil you in then.

_Pencil me in?_

Elena sighed. Downcast eyes and a general expression of dragging her feet had her looking like she wanted to meet _the big boss_ after all. Still, she pressed, "Yeah. But this is an emergency. I won't be long."

"So sorry," the other girl proffered up that much as apology. _My hands are tied_, her eyes say.

And Elena nods, because she understands: this is the way things are. So Elena turned, hands stuffed in her pockets—ready to leave. And the girl at the desk (pretty, pretty brunette), reassured, went back to looking busy, by double clicking on the ace she had just uncovered in her game when suddenly…

Whoosh, a breeze of blur shot right by her.

Before she realized or could even get up to stop, all she could muster was a weak, "Elena, no!"

Too late.

* * *

Inside the office, the two men (and the women from the restaurant—Cindy, that's her name), looked up from the weapon model to see Elena burst in, followed quickly by panicked and thoroughly terrified Regina.

"Elena?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Regina said, "I tried to stop her."

And Elena had that desperate, kind-of, disheveled appearance that prompted Rufus to ask, "Is something wrong?"

Elena seemed to register the situation. All eyes—important people—on her. She had realized the enormity of the intrusion (Rufus never liked to be bother), and, for a second, considered maybe walking out like this never happened…

Instead she said, "President, sir. I have something very important to tell you." Her voice shaking. Words coming together firmly.

Rufus looked to his guests then back to Elena, asking, "Can it wait?"

A moment, then, a shake of the head. A firm, _no this can't wait._

Rufus cleared his throat before offering to the other people in the room a: "I'm sorry. But could we possibly finish some…"

"Say no more, Rufus," the short stubby man said. "We understand. Other matters needing your attention. Please do call us to reschedule. I'm very interested in seeing where we can implement these ideas."

As Rufus escorted the man and the woman out, Cindy stopped to offer a farewell, "Rufus…"

"Cindy."

A smirk on her lips—the promise of more.

And he couldn't have cared less as he shut the door behind her.

He turned to Elena, who was wringing her hands, worried. "All right, then. What's wrong?" He asked, approaching her.

Elena's big brown eyes looked up at him, glistening like she was so panicked that she was going to cry. He registered this and was all the more confused.

Then she started in a rush of words. No pauses in-between. And he caught something like, "Sir,Ididn''msorry aobutinterruptingyou. ..Butyouwere…were…And I...I…"

"Stop," He held up his hand, "Breathe. Now what?"

And she was breathing. Hard. Finally, assuming enough control she told him, "I've missed my period."

His face: blank, emotionless. Not the reaction she was looking for, so she continued…

"It's been over a month. And, in Nibelhelm, I threw up. So I thought…I could be. You know…"

But she can't find the words to continue. Not with him staring at her like that. Like, like…

Nothing.

Just. Blank.

And there was such guilt. Elena felt like someone had just torn her guts out: him staring at her like that. And she can't face him, she thinks—

"Regina!"

Elena looked at him in surprise when Rufus abruptly called out.

The secretary rushed in, "Yes, sir?

"Clear my schedule for the day and get the car ready."

"You're going somewhere?" She asked confused. Didn't he have something really, important planned? She can't exactly remember.

"Never mind where, just do as I say."

"But what about Mister Reeves of the WRO?"

"Tell him apologies, but something's just come up."

* * *

Reno pounded his fist against the candy machine. "Stupid, broken, piece of crap."

Rude, standing next to him, adjusted his glasses and said simply, "You break it, you pay for it."

"I know that, yo!" Reno shot back, flustered and indignant. "You'd think new city, sure. New building and headquarters, great! But they can't even get functioning candy machines."

"Hmm…"

"I just want my Nutty Buddy."

Rude shook his head. To think, an elite member of ShinRa practically crying over a vending problem. _We definitely have issues…hmm?_

Rude notices something interesting, more like a commotion down below. They were on the second floor, which offered a view at ground level over the railing---there was a definite commotion there. Noises of excited chattering.

He peered over the railing to see: Rufus followed by an entourage of several people speaking to him all at once—as if this was their last chance to catch him today.

"Whatcha looking at?" Reno asked, joining Rude to peer over the side. He was munching on the Nutty Buddy he'd just managed to extract from that godforsaken machine.

Rude took notice, "Break me off a piece."

And Reno did. Before returning his attention over to Rufus about to exit the building. "Where's he going? Oh hey, Elena! What's she doing there? She privy to something we don't know about?"

Rude shrugged.

Reno, however, appeared more concerned than anything.

After all, if Rufus was discussing Turk business he should take it up with the head, Tseng. Not small fry like Elena. Or at the very least, Rufus would be consulting him—he was her senior, after all….

But now, watching Elena get shuffled outside the entrance along with Rufus in such haste, he couldn't help wondering if something about this was off…

* * *

The Presidential car awaited--all gleaming black in the sun. As the chauffeur quickly stepped out, wiped the sweat off his brow and nervously opened the door for Rufus.

Rufus didn't enter first as expected. Instead, he whipped his arm around to grab a hold of Elena, shuffling her into the car ahead of him. She—surprised, but still obedient—complied. Then Rufus turned to Regina and whispered for her ears only: "Make sure I'm not interrupted."

"Yes, sir."

It didn't matter if the entire hospital was busy and booked; if a ShinRa family member showed up, you damn well make room. No need for reservations, phone calls, all the rituals of seeing a doctor.

Rufus showed up and was greeted immediately by the chief of medicine (Rufus was, after all, the main donor here).

"A room."

"Of course."

A few curious eyes followed them as they walked towards the elevator. The President with a girl and the boss-hospital man—an interesting sight.

Inside the private room, Rufus finally made his intentions clear: "I want to see the head obstetrician."

_Obstetrician? _The hospital chief looked over at the girl and Elena felt an intrusive and judgmental gaze fall upon her; he responded, "Yes. I'll go call on Doctor Inman right away."

Just as the doctor was leaving, he heard, "Um…" coming from Elena.

The two men turned to look at Elena, who offered a weak, "Is Doctor Inman, by any chance, a woman?"

"No."

"Oh." Then Elena, shifting her eyes back and forth before looking up, added a small request, "Is there any way that, maybe, I could see a lady doctor?"

The chief of medicine raised an eyebrow and looked over to Rufus for consent.

And Rufus had a small sigh by way of saying, _whatever she wants…_

"A woman then," Rufus agreed aloud.

The chief nodded before leaving obediently.

* * *

Elena hated pap smears. There was something so exposing about it. Didn't matter if the environment was friendly, professional, and sterile; she would rather have avoided it completely. Now she sat in a white hospital gown (naked except for that flimsy excuse of a cover), with her feet held up on stirrups which kept her legs apart…

Wide enough for inspection.

Elena flushed. As if it wasn't bad enough, Rufus remained in the room.

The obstetrician, who usually asked if the man in the room was the partner or husband, simply nodded to Rufus and began to instruct Elena to disrobe. There was an unspoken code of secrecy and acknowledgement. What occurred would remain here until further notice…

The monitor beeped, but besides the doctor, no one had a clue of what was going on. Rufus was looking for a sign, anything, when the doctor said, "I see…"

She, the doctor, looked at Elena and offered a: "Well then, congratulations."

Elena felt her heart dropped.

The doctor continued, "You're an expectant mom."

"I…I…"

_I mean the pee sticks show it_, but here was undeniable confirmation.

"I can't be!" She blurted out.

The obstetrician was taken aback. She's had that sort of reaction before—seeing almost everything when it comes to pregnancy in her line of business (and people can go crazy)---but she wasn't expecting it from Elena, seeing as how..._he _was obviously the father…

Rufus came up to the woman doctor and said, quite calmly, "Show me." He indicated the monitor bleeping up images of the 'child.'

And, obliging, she pointed to a small splotch of white in the middle of the screen.

"Hmm…" Rufus, thinking, asked then, "Boy or girl?"

"It's too early to tell. We're still in the first trimester."

"Hmm…"

The ceiling was spinning and Elena had to close her eyes for a bit. _How could he be so calm? Unless…_

Unless, of course, he didn't think it was his. Then there wouldn't be an issue. And looking at Rufus's face--that completely impassivity---this had to be the case.

Why the hell wasn't he completely terrorized like she was? This idea of an alien life-form growing inside her. If she didn't feel battered and dragged down by this miserable of all miserable days, she would be shouting, "WE USED PROTECTION!!!" at the top of her lungs.

Elena wanted to beat someone up for this stupidity.

The doctor offered, "I'll go get the prenatal care package." She left the room, allowing time for the two inside to make up their mind about this issue.

What was there to think about though? Pregnancy? For God's sake, she was only twenty five. Sure, she took sex ED, but she paid attention! Enough to know how not to get knocked up…

So why this?

She couldn't be someone's mother; she couldn't even do her own laundry without mixing up the whites and the color.

And then there was the OTHER choice. Not that it was too terrifying or that she was opposed to it or anything; but, for Elena, that choice wasn't real for some strange reason. Like she couldn't contemplate the where, when, and how of it. And if Rufus had asked (the A-B-O-R-T word), she didn't know how she would respond.

_Probably with a 'you sonofabitch,'_

She felt his hand closed around hers—a warm, comforting, intimate hold—the first of the day. The first in weeks…

And just as suddenly, the formality, the space between them, collapsed. She was confused by this sudden shift his attitude as he took his seat besides her and told her, his voice soft, "This is good."

Reassuring….

"This is good."

Again, as if no one in the room actually believed it...

But Rufus continued, "Good news."

With that, the five letter word (A-B-O-R-T) was no longer a probability or even a possibility. Out the window. And now, all Elena had were the butterflies in her stomach.

She should cry, she thought then.

She should say something. Her world was just ending, after all.

But there was such nervousness that if she spoke she would probably just squeak. Instead, she nodded dumbly in agreement.

_Good news, I guess._

And Rufus smiled. A small, but genuine smile (another first in weeks), and took her in his arms, pressing her head against his chest—against his heart. And, Elena supposed-- resting then, closing her eyes--there was something to say about that---that thump, ta, thumping she found there.


	3. Chapter 2

**All the King's Men**

**Fandom:** Final Fantasy VII  
**Characters:** Elena, Rufus  
**Rating:** M

**Disclaimer: **Property of Squaresoft. No money is being made off this.

**Chapter 2**

The morning was still cool and crisp. About six or so when Tseng received a phone call: a summon of incredible importance--to meet the President at headquarters alone. The details weren't given, but Tseng knew well enough just to be there and not ask questions.

Tseng slid his ID card in the scanner and bleep, the gates opened. He was inside---a strange sense of home, isn't it? A sixty-plus story building made him feel more at ease than his single bedroom penthouse. Well, he thinks, at least they have a headquarter. For four-plus years they were orphaned and homeless. But now, the days of shifty meetings in makeshift warehouses, errant suitcases and cup o' noodles, were over.

Tseng slicked his hair back, adjusted his tie (presentable), and then approached as the elevator door dinged open.

Still so early in the morning that the secretary wasn't even in yet. There were always a few souls wandering about—mainly janitorial.

There was a knock on the door. A soft rapping.

Rufus looked up from the multitude of files, going over finances again, because suddenly they seem so much more urgent—the preservation of it as oppose to the what-can-we- risk aspect. "Come in."

Tseng entered, "You called me, sir?"

"Yes, yes," Rufus motioned him over, "Have a seat."

"Sir."

Tseng obeyed, sitting down across Rufus as the other man got up to flip open the blinds, letting sunlight (such a beautiful dawn) flood into the room. And there was a silent minute as Rufus ran a multitude of considerations in his brain.

Tseng, meanwhile, sat, patient.

"This isn't an official order," Rufus began. "Actually, you know… of all the people in this company, from the executives on down, you're the one person I rely on the most."

Rufus took a seat on the edge of the desk, near Tseng. It was an intimate gesture indicating years of trust…

Friendship, even.

_Unofficial business?_

"Is this personal, sir?" Tseng ventured to ask.

And Rufus considered just coming out and saying it. His silence, though, was consent enough.

Tseng nodded, understanding.

"You should realize then," he said, "that the lines between what's personal and professional are very thin, at least when it's regarding you." Tseng spoke as a reminder, then added, "Your personal affairs are the company's."

Now it was Rufus's turn to nod.

And what Rufus said next would've floored a lesser man. As it was, Tseng flinched in surprised _(betrayal?) _when Rufus confessed, "Elena's with child."

_Elena…_

Tseng stared ahead of him; his face showing nothing other than that first initial, uncharacteristic blink. "I see…"

Rufus smiled, a little weary. "I guess I don't need to tell you why it's any of my concern."

"No."

"I figured as much." Rufus studied the other man in the room closely. It was like a game of chess, even if there was no board. "You're not surprise?"

Tseng answered, flat, "My being surprise has little bearing. Your orders, sir?"

"I want Elena out of the Investigative department. Considering her condition and…what I have in mind, it's no longer appropriate she remain there."

"Of course."

"Come on, Tseng," Rufus said, a smirk appearing on his face, "You know how stubborn she is."

"You want me to ease her out then?"

"Desk jobs first. Then another department, one I'll probably invent," Rufus admitted. "Something relating to the Turks, so she'll be happy. There'll be no complaints."

Tseng stood up; summarizing easily what was already in Rufus's head, "Not to worry, sir. Discretion is my top priority. She'll never know it was you."

"See to it."

Rufus tilted his head. That was a sign: this meeting was over. The two men parted ways, Rufus walking back to the files and Tseng exiting the way he came in.

Once the door was closed, Tseng allowed himself the small space to sigh.

There was no denying that his life went from simple to so complicated in the span of just several minutes.

* * *

Mako was dead. With general knowledge and protest over ShinRa's depletion of the limited Planet's lifestream, there was worldwide call to band forever this source of energy. The international commission of laws had placed this on their top ten priorities of changes post-meteor. And so, that way of making money was out.

Still, ShinRa was nothing if not resourceful. There were still hundreds and thousands of way to turn a profit, and that was the bottom line of any company. They turned their attention on something that was already a strong point: weapon and arms development. So long as they were supervised by the WRO regulation and guidelines, ShinRa was allowed to operate. Stocks were then sold to the general public (the idea of stocks being introduced once competition—other companies specializing in other sectors—arose). Now, the once-bankrupt ShinRa was worth billions.

And WRO had approved Neo-Midgar's creation.

All in all, ShinRa rise from the ashes was considered a general success.

Reeves and his WRO were understandably worried about a particularly shady branch of the ShinRa's corporate structure: The Investigation Sector of General Affairs. But Rufus had convinced the committee (those stuffy and paranoid men and women), that the Turks were a necessary and—most importantly—legitimate part of the institution.

And people had a way of turning a blind eye to things when money was involved. See, _the world hadn't changed that much._

Countries (legit armies), black markets (drug-kings), new terrorist groups, freedom fighters (these guerilla groups) all needed weapons, and ShinRa provided the best. The Turks made sure of that.

* * *

"We're going to be entering into some intense negotiations," Tseng said, finishing up a briefing on what was turning out to look like a dangerous field operation.

Reno rubbed his hands together in anticipation, "Mmmm baby, we're going to be using some heavy firepower."

"Hopefully not," Tseng said. "Remember, we're trying to make friends here. Only go hostile if they go red."

"Right. Whatever you say, boss."

"Get ready. I'll meet you on the roof in half an hour. Meeting adjourned."

The tension was immediately gone with those words: _meeting adjourned_. They were all friends here. Comrades. And work was over—at least temporarily.

Reno swung an arm around Elena, not noticing her look of unease. "Yo, if anything, just charm your way pass the dude. He's only the rebel leader."

He was interrupted with Tseng saying, "She won't get that chance."

"Huh?"

Now the Turks had acquired several new members besides the four; and the room was filled with a dozen other people, all eyes focus on Tseng; but he continued, undeterred, "Elena, I'm assigning you to backup in headquarters."

"What?!" Elena nearly doubled out of her seat in surprise.

"I need you to stay here. You'll be feeding us information in real-time via satellite feed. Caesar is a formidable man, and I'll need reliable support. You're it."

"But sir!"

"That's an order."

"Whoa…" Reno slowly removed his arm from Elena, as if she was somehow tainted.

Elena looked around, flabbergasted and embarrassed. The other Turks, catching her eye, quickly looked away and some walked out—all avoiding the messy scene.

Elena got up and followed Tseng out the door and down the hallway, trailing after him. "Sir! Sir! Sir, I'm talking to you."

Tseng stopped and swung around, face-to-face with Elena---and suddenly she felt small. Like she was five and about to face the principal's wrath.

"Do you have a problem with my decision?" Tseng asked.

Nothing menacing about the way he said it. Still, she was scared. She swallowed hard and found the courage to say, "As a matter of fact…I do, sir."

"Hmm?" Tseng lifted an eyebrow, curious.

"You know, I've been waiting for months to meet Caesar. I was the one who got in connection with the Ladle Boys in the South (the drug ring), you remember? And then, all those reports--who do you think researched and compiled them? None of the rookies sure as hell did. I deserve to meet that sonofabitch in his house!"

Tseng frowned. Instinctively he knew she was right—that she had earned the right to be there on the field with them. It had never been otherwise (which accounted for the embarrassment encountered today).

Still, no matter how much he wanted to approve, he had orders to follow.

"You said it yourself, Elena. You compiled all the data about him. There's not another soul on Gaia who knows Caesar the way you do. Hell, I bet he doesn't even know as much. Which precisely why I need you here," Tseng finished.

_Damn_, she thought, _I shot myself in my own foot_.

"But…" Her eyes narrowed, not buying it. This was still not like Tseng. And, in the heat of the moment, her brain crossed wired with another possibility. She asked, tensed, "Did President Shinra speak to you about something…"

_This girl is clever. _Tseng smiled internally. She wasn't a Turk for nothing. "Why would the President say anything? He doesn't concern himself with small dealings like this."

Elena blushed, being caught with Tseng flipping the questions on her. _Why, indeed?_

"It's just," she stuttered, "It's just…this is so sudden. I was just wondering if the orders came from above. That's all."

"It did come from above."

Elena looked up, surprised; Tseng answered, simply, "They came from me."

* * *

Reno eyes narrowed. He couldn't believe what he just witnessed. Tseng dismissing Elena like that in front of the subordinates. Ordering her to stay behind as backup was as good as a dismissal coming from Tseng.

Rude sat, seemingly nonchalant about the whole affair.

"You're not worried?"

Rude shook his head. Of course, Tseng's reasons were none of his business.

Still…

Reno got up and went after Elena. And just outside the hallway he could hear the intense 'discussion.'

Tseng never compromises but, surprisingly, Elena wasn't backing down easily. She fought back.

Then, Elena had mentioned Rufus…

_Why did she bring him up?_

"They came from me," he said, (the orders, yes?) before coldly turning a shoulder and leaving her standing like a petrified statue in the hallway—Elena didn't know what hit her; how could she? And, frankly, watching the entire sordid enactment play out, Reno didn't either.

Elena turned around then, shaking with anger and humiliation at this turn of event; and then, she caught Reno staring at her. _Had he seen what had happened?_

And all he said in return was, "That's cold, yo."

* * *

_Southern Continent, Caesar's Den_

Trafficking contraband substances had a long history going back all the way to the founding of the first cities in this area—a notorious environment of amorality and lawlessness. The reach of international law couldn't really penetrate here until recently, and that was entirely due to one man's cooperation with the WRO: Caesar…

The shrewd man had managed to mask his operations in the cloak of being a legitimate business, struck up relations with the WRO and used their backing (financial and military-related) to take out his rivals. Dwindling the competition down to just three other cartels—all having firm power bases in the Southern Continent of Gaia.

ShinRa was negotiating a deal here to provide firearms exclusively to Caesar in return for (also exclusive) access to the rich oil fields in this region. Caesar was sitting on a pot of gold larger than all his collective businesses combined, but the fat man had little knowledge just exactly how much oil was worth.

Oil.

Fossil fuel.

Mako was out. And now the wave of the future wasn't coal (what the WRO predicted), but this—black liquid gushing from Gaia's bowels. ShinRa was the first to realize this, and now they were moving quickly to monopolize what they had predicted to be _the_ energy source—a way to rebuild their energy and research sector.

_The dream wasn't dead._

The Southern Continent was too dangerous an area to have dealings directly with. ShinRa couldn't just send top officials here (the CEO in business suits). So the Turks were assigned to make the first contact.

They have had a break since working on this assignment three months earlier and were now at Caesar's expansive villa, dealing with the Kingpin himself.

But the fool (that fat, disgusting slob of a man) had to go and ruin a good deal for the both of them. All because he couldn't let go of an old grudge against the corporation…

He had whipped out a gun (declaring that ShinRa would never rule again)—he and his thugs, and fired on the ShinRa emissaries.

Outnumbered and outflanked, the Turks had no choice but to retreat. Their fast reflexes, experience, and training were the only thing standing between them and complete annihilation…

* * *

"Elena! What the hell are you doing here?!"

"GET DOWN!"

Tseng ducked in time as Elena fixed the rocket launcher line of sight on the pursuers behind him and click—

The exhaust of the rocket flew in plumes as it took off, blasting a course for the front of the villa. Caesar's men looked up in time to see the front of the warhead make an arch from the sky directly at them and…

Ka-BOOM

A massive explosion—all debris, smoke, and fire like the inferno of hell---flashed in seconds and rocked the ground around them. The force of which sent Tseng flying through the air and landing…

Scraping and rolling himself on the dirt of the jungle a few feet ahead of him, right at the foot of helicopter Elena was sitting in. She, in a daring (somewhat ill-conceived) defiance of direct orders, had followed hours after Tseng, arriving in time to provide life-saving reinforcements.

She cast aside the spent rocket launcher and reached down now to haul Tseng up. He struggled to his feet but managed to roll onto the platform where she sat when suddenly…

From the corner of Elena's eyes, she sees it: a figure in black, aiming a gun directly at the back of Tseng's skull.

Tseng didn't know what was happening—it was all so fast. How Elena had grabbed him, turned his body aside and flung herself over him in cover. The bullet blasted through her, missing him completely.

"Elena!" Tseng turned to the pilot, who was momentarily stunned by all this, and he shouted, "Get us out of here!"

"Right!"

The helicopter blade whirled, churn-chur-chur. And under a barrage of fire (bullets impacting the metal frame causing sparks), the helicopter lifted up, up, and away.

Reno and Rude, also sustaining minor injuries, had managed to get on the same helicopter and were sitting awestruck, marveling on how they had managed to defy death then…

Elena was lying next to them, groaning in pain. She was losing consciousness and was barely coherent.

Tseng was over her, shouting her name, "Don't go to sleep! Elena, don't!" He pressed his palm over her wound—the one her back, and shook his head, unable to believe anything that was happening, "No, no, no, no!"

Reno looked over and heard Tseng muttering, "They have no idea what they've done…"

He looked up at Reno, and the younger man was taken aback by the darkness he found there.

* * *

_Neo-Midgar Hospital_

It had been several hours since Elena was rushed into the emergency room. Now, she was placed in intensive care, but they had received good news: she'll live.

Rufus was there, just outside with the doctor—he hadn't left the hospital since he had learned that Elena was being transported here. At this news, he leaned in and asked the doctor (the same chief of doctor from before), his voice low, "And the child?"

The doctor answered, very relieved, "It was fortunate—the timing. We were able to save both. Mother and child. They're doing well."

"Thank you, doctor," Rufus said, nodding his head. _This is good…good…_

The doctor looked to both Rufus and the man standing next to Rufus (another person, who had stayed by Rufus's side the entire time), and said, "If there's nothing else…"

Tseng stepped forward, speaking for Rufus, "No, doctor. You may leave."

With their permission, the doctor gladly left, feeling as if he himself had somehow escaped the jaws of death. There was that constant feeling of danger around the young President; as if, at any time, he would snap and destroy everything in his path…

That beneath that placid and studied façade lurk an insurmountable fountain of rage.

Tseng came up to Rufus, and both men were quiet as they watched Elena lie at rest behind the glass partition that separated the two rooms.

They had already gone through the: _How could you let this happen?!_

_Tseng had answered, "She must've disobeyed orders. I had no idea she was there."_

They had only learned later that Elena had fake Tseng's authorization and obtain permission to mobilize a secondary helicopter unit to operate out there.

Now, Tseng had to answer for his failure. Regardless of what had happened—Elena's actions or what--the responsibility fell on him. He couldn't protect her…

"She saved my life," he was able to finally say, before adding, "I know that's a small consolation."

There was a protracted silence before he heard:

"I want him dead."

Simple and to the point.

Rufus stared straight ahead.

"Sir, Caesar might have protection from the WRO. Our sources indicate that Reeves…"

"So what?" Rufus interrupted. "Is Reeves suddenly the king of the world?"

_Can he stop me from taking my revenge?_

And Tseng answered honestly, "As the head of the WRO, he mightiest well be."

"I don't care."

Rufus turned to look at Tseng directly in the eye: everything that said murder in the coldest way possible. "I don't care whether he's in bed with Reeves figuratively or literally. Reeves doesn't know who Caesar really is. Send him evidence..."

_The illegal activities…_

Rufus continued, "Have him disassociate---cooperate with us."

And Tseng knows exactly what Rufus is talking about: _Let him have nowhere to turn to then…_

And Tseng knows further that with those words, Caesar's fate was sealed. There was nothing else. He nods and gives a brief salute. "Consider it done, sir."


	4. Chapter 3

**All the King's Men**

**Fandom:** Final Fantasy VII  
**Characters:** Elena, Rufus

**Rating:** M

**Disclaimer: **Property of Squaresoft. No money is being made off this.

**Chapter 3**

If you would've told Rufus Shinra that he could be involved in an intimate relationship with one of his subordinates, he would've laughed in your face—because that was who he was and who he still is. And because that sort of thing--when convenient--was reserved for high priced whores and sluts of the upper echelon. Because Rufus didn't believe in impulse. Everything had a meticulous design, and if things fell out of order, well…

The rest would've been messy.

So, no.

He wouldn't deem that sort of relationship prudent. Sex was a mechanical bore. A biological fact of life; there was pressure and then release. That's all there was to it. And he couldn't understand the obsession the general populace had with the weakness.

And truth be told, if it wasn't for Sephiroth and his mad plan to destroy the world (succeeding only in running the first ShinRa into the ground), Rufus's would've been more than happy to carry on in his dalliances with the painted, anonymous faces of those women who laughed, ordered expensive champagne and drank from golden cups. Superficial wenches.

As it was—and fate had a wicked sense of humor—Rufus's found himself with nothing in the immediate aftermath of Midgar's destruction. Nothing except for his Turks, his life, and his name—all these were still intact.

And if it wasn't for these factors--like the stars aligning in the right places--he would've never found in Elena what he found then, years ago, among the junk-heaps and disarrayed shacks built in the Edge…

Then there was the geostigmata, which had crippled Rufus, leaving him with strange and inexplicable lesions here and there…

And through it all, the Turks were there besides him. Strange, how fate worked.

How Elena was among them (those rogue four). How she had, in such a short period of time, formed such an intense loyalty to an entity that was then considered, so surely, dead and defunct.

* * *

_Years Ago. The Edge._

An anonymous warehouse, stocked among many others. Grey, grey and more drab grey. Nothing stood out in this city of steel, tarmac, and iron. Rufus found a horrible aftertaste in his mouth every time he thought about it. That he had to endure living in _this _city.

He hissed as Elena removed one of the dirty bandages from his arm, revealing the festering sore underneath. She frowned, commenting, "It's not getting any better."

"You're observant with the obvious."

He wished he could do more. Change his own bandages, for one. But he couldn't even walk. Now, sitting in this wheelchair, the best thing he could do was scheme. So long as he had a body—no matter how broken and deformed—there was still a chance.

_A chance for what exactly?_

He doesn't know. Redemption, perhaps?

Elena grabbed the medicine bottle besides her (he hated that slimy liquid concoction--it always stung). She tilted it over and into some cotton swabs before gingerly applying it to the lesion. Rufus gritted his teeth, hissing between it. It was painful.

_Finished_.

_Now for the wrapping._ She rolled out a piece and expertly started to fold the bandage around his arm…

And Rufus notices—the look of concentration on her face. The way her brows met and creased together in the middle. The way she stuck a little piece of her tongue out to the left of her mouth, measuring cautiousness by degrees; and it's all very strange…

How endearing he found it…

That she was kneeling here, performing what's she done on rote so many times; what he's taken for granted.

Rufus dropped his head down, full well-knowing he's an arrogant bastard. It was a rare moment though--that Rufus found himself touched by this feeling of…of...

Was this gratitude?

Yes. That was it. _This was gratitude_.

"Elena," he spoke when she finished.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you still here?"

She was caught off guard by the question, "Tseng and Reno wanted someone to look after you while they were…"

Rufus sighed; she didn't get it. So he began again, "No, I'm asking _why are you_ still here?"

"Sir?"

"You don't have a salary to speak of. Your benefits are down to nil. Shinra is gone. So why are you still here?"

And she suddenly gets it: the _why _he's speaking of. And she answered, reflexively, honestly, because he was right, there was really nothing left---nothing to hide: "Shinra's not gone, sir. You're still here."

And as long as you're still here, she implied, Shinra still had a chance.

_Loyalty_.

And Rufus had to frown--the ridiculousness of it! The whole of the world had gone to shit and there was still code of ethics somewhere?

Elena didn't seem to mind though; she got up to put away the stray items littered in their cramped quarters. Rufus didn't want to see her then—turning his head away. He didn't want to see her…at least not for a while after that.

There was something too brutally honest about the kind of faith that she placed in him.

* * *

Ask Rufus when and how the phrase, "Rebuilding Shinra," came about and he couldn't tell you. As him the _when_ and _how_ of it being accomplished and all he can tell you is that he doesn't know of the exact _when_ it happened, but the _how_?

Well, the how was easy.

_Through sweat, blood, and damn hard effort._

The blood was, of course, preferably not their own.

Get down to specifics and it's really a numbers game. Blackmail and extortion was just the means. Numbers had no morality attached to them.

So they rebuilt the empire where there was no based of power to begin with. And Rufus was close to tasting how the top of the world would be like again.

It was on an ordinary day, like any other day---so, so ordinary…

Elena was besides Rufus in another makeshift office—this one better than the last. The Turks had long ago become Rufus's sole confidant, and they had the luxury—nay—the freedom to express themselves around him without fear of repercussion.

And Elena was taking full advantage of this fact.

She gabbed on freely. Incessantly.

Rufus had to marvel on how little she tired; so long as someone was there to hear (not even listen, hearing would've sufficed), she went on and on and on…

They were overlooking blueprints that the Turks had retrieved from the wreckage of the old corporate headquarters---the plans for Neo-Midgar could be re-imagined, one that would function Mako-less.

Elena must've been excited by the prospect, because she would not stop speaking. Even after all the obvious signs Rufus dealt out: the little rubbing of the temple area signaling an oncoming headache, the exasperated sighs that were getting louder and louder, the uncomfortable shifting of his collar; till finally…

"Elena!"

With this, he pressed a finger to her lips in a silent gesture to please, "Shhhhh."

Elena reacts: her eyes are wide open in surprise. But she's quiet, murmuring a little beneath his finger, something to the being of: "I'm sorry…"

And she did look sorry. Her eyebrows slant slightly upward in that…that…

Cute, kind of, puppy dog thing she does (Rufus was all too familiar with it) when she knows she has irked him.

It must've been an unconscious action.

It didn't strike him as something that women simply did. In experience, most were too busy being sultry and sophisticated around him to show this side of themselves; so as familiar as Rufus was with "this look" when it came to Elena, he couldn't quite put a finger onto why he found it so…

So…

So…

Compelling...

And once he noticed that, he couldn't help but noticing texture (the softness) of the lips beneath his fingertips and the fullness of it…

The way air passed between them on every exhale and every inhale….

And he didn't know why he found this so compelling now…

Rufus's pause didn't go unnoticed: Elena was still standing there; eyes wide open in surprise, his finger on her lips—only now she was surprised at why they haven't moved in the last minute? She could only stare at Rufus: _the Man_, her boss, and watch his sudden and inexplicable change in emotion.

Whereas he looked annoyed before, now his expression was…so odd. How his breathing changed, steady but more pronounced…

How his eyes had dilated and his eyelids grew heavy. Elena wracked her brain; she had seen this look before. She recognized it.

And before she can figure it out what it was (desire, she'll come to know later)---it's an impulse—he had already lowered his head to meet hers, his finger moving away so now there was space and, before she could say another word, Rufus was upon her, already kissing her. Kissing her!

_Oh my god!_

And she was pretty sure all the synapses in her body had short-fired, because all she can do is let out a panicked, "MMMMPH!" Hands gripping on his shoulder, not quite to pull away, but not wanting to pull closer either. Just there hang on—for sanity's sake.

And she was pretty sure all of her synapses short-fired because she was kissing her boss. Her BOSS!!!

And just as it began so suddenly, it was over.

He had parted from her, leaving her lips thoroughly kissed and leaving her thoroughly confused/scared as hell. But Rufus wasn't perturbed—it had seemed right at the moment; and, as he looked at her, some mutual understanding was translated:

_This is between us._

And Elena can only nod, not knowing what kind of lines (_all kinds_) had been crossed in that one moment.

"I'm going," she began, recovering her wits, "I'm going to go now."

He nodded.

It seemed like a good idea to get some space, some time to sort through everything. She was pretty damn sure that what he just did had to be construed as some form of sexual harassment…

* * *

No, it wasn't love. It was impulse. That was the other silent agreement between them. And Elena, in her way, accepted it; though it did take a while before she got the_ "the hell?!" _out of her head.

She could sympathize with the young President.

Everyone wanted comfort. Even from the most unlikely of sources. And sex? Well, sex was just another form of comfort.

Hell, she liked sex. So what was the big deal? Besides there being that whole employee-employer relationship that made everything seemed so much weirder…

But they didn't have sex. It was just one kiss. One time.

* * *

Elena didn't compare to other women; at least, not the women that Rufus was used to dealing with. Beautiful, sensual Goddesses of the night.

Elena was—put in really easy terms—awkward.

And when Rufus had kissed her then, he had dismissed it. After all, how long had it been? He was focused so long on the goal of rebuilding Shinra's name in the world, that he had completely forgotten what it was like to just be. And that must've been it, he deduced. He hadn't slept with women in so long that he had simply forgotten…

…

But Rufus didn't stop thinking about her. And he found it harder and harder to put away the thoughts that didn't seem proper. Indecent, if only because of who it was directed at.

And he had so many other women after that…

Elena should've been erased from his mind.

Still, being as proud as Rufus was, he clamped down on his desire, wanting to smite it while it was still nascent.

He was angry.

He was _furious_.


	5. Chapter 4

**All the King's Men**

**Fandom:** Final Fantasy VII  
**Characters:** Elena, Rufus

**Rating:** MA

**Warnings: **This chapter is very sexual in nature. Please be advised. I don't want to get in trouble with the censorship board.

**Minor Note: **I don't believe in lemons. Only spices.

**Chapter 4**

Rufus closed his hand on his face, seething. He had been insulted—imagine! Rufus Shinra insulted! By a CEO of a sparky upstart company no less; and at the reception of Neo-Midgar's City Hall opening.

And it was a rage, a wrath so powerful and dark, that Rufus felt like he could choke on his own bile. He wanted to hurt (something) as badly as his chest was constricting.

But no, no murders. Not tonight. He needed something else…

Something to quell his anger. Something desperate.

Rufus collapsed to sit on the floor of his office. Dark---it was already so late in the evening. Only the sound of Rufus's harsh breathing could be heard; as if he wanted to punish the world somehow by just breathing.

There was the sound of the door opening, and fluorescent light spilled in from the hallway. Elena peeked in cautiously. "Mr. President? Sir, people are asking for you."

At the sound of her voice, Rufus's back straightened, suddenly alert.

Elena could see him—a figure on the floor in the middle of a room. Her face crinkled in worry. "Sir?"

"Turn on the light, Elena," Rufus's voice was calmed and controlled. All traces of earlier anger gone; still there was no mistaking an undertone of menace—something that Elena could sense: that this—being here—was dangerous. And Elena, wary, hesitated.

Rufus's had given a command.

She had to obey.

And she walked over to the switch and flipped them on.

Rufus had already gotten up and was at the couch situated on the left side of the room when he said, "Shut the door…"

Just as she reached it about to leave. "Yes, sir."

"No," he added quickly, reading her intention to still leave, "You stay here and shut the door."

Now, Elena was worried; but again, she does as she is told. Because...

Because…

It had been so long ago, since that incident and…and…

And it should be all right, right?

The door shut behind her, Elena gathered enough courage to face him; she had to; they were the only ones in the room, so who else was there to face?

And there he was---sitting on the couch, head down so she couldn't see his face. An almost dejected posture.

"Come here," he said, motioning for her to stand besides him.

And Elena does, albeit not without some concern. Once there, Rufus tilted his head up to look at her; and it's a strange look of recognition…

No.

Rufus sat relaxed and motioned for her again to do something, _to come closer?_

Not exactly.

And when she realized what it was he wanted, she couldn't help but blush. "No, I couldn't…" She began to stammer, because really she couldn't just…

Rufus frowned. He knew she wasn't playing coy.

She wasn't that clever when it came to relationships.

He knew. He had observed her around Tseng so he knew. The girl needed some encouragement; that was all. So Rufus provided it---by grabbing her arm and hauling her down to sit on square in his lap.

And Elena cried out when he tugged and yelping in surprise, finding herself sitting in the lap of the President. And she felt her dignity screaming: _this was compromising! Get up! _. She knew enough to know that much.

But Rufus held on tight as she struggled, squirming in his grasp. The unexpected motion (unwittingly, in her efforts to get free) had her backside rubbing all the right places to have Rufus gritting his teeth…

_Damn this woman!_

"No, no. I can't…" She was breathing heavily; face was red from embarrassment and shame…

But Rufus held on—his grip was strong, not bruising but still...

And by way of pacification, Rufus offered up a gentle, "Listen, listen…listen to me. Calm down. It's ok. It's all right." As if he was trying to convince a scared animal to not go. Not to flee.

Rufus takes notice when her shoulder slump in a sort of little defeat and she sits, suddenly quiet.

"Good girl," he murmured.

Now able to hold her freely, he shifts her weight slightly to get comfortable and then, gently, bought her head about to meet his.

"Look at me." Another command.

But this time, Elena doesn't obey. This time, she can't bring herself to do it.

So Rufus meets her halfway, leaning his forehead against hers to speak in whispers, "Look at me, Elena."

_No. _She shook her head. It's a small motion, but firm in its conviction.

He smiled to himself, knowing exactly why; before asking her to confirm it herself, "Are you afraid of me?"

There a pause and then a nod: _Yes, I'm very, very afraid of you._

"Why?"

And there are so many reasons for why, but she can't sort them out. Not when her mind's a'jumbled and she's sitting atop him like _this. _So she shrugged. _I don't know._

And he asked her, what he feared the most, but never had vocalized to another soul on Gaia: "Do you think I'm a failure?"

At this, her head snapped up and for the first time that night, fastened her eyes, furious, on his. "No." She said unequivocally.

There it was. That unwavering belief again.

Rufus, satisfied with her answer, leaned against her, nuzzling her white collared shirt, and in a bold move—kisses her there, content---for the moment—to just rest his head. He can feel her react, hesitate—that intake of air…

_Hiss…_

But other than that, she doesn't move.

She doesn't pull away.

Emboldened, he plants more kisses. Soft, tentative at first.

This time on the base of her neck, as he begins to undo the restricting tie of her two piece man-suit. He had never seen anything more than that from her…

_She had been surprisingly modest._

And the sight of the skin exposed (at the based of her neck)--once the tie was cast away and the top button unhooked—was the most arousing sight he had witness in his life.

_Rufus felt his control slipping. _

And that was it…

He had to take what was there, what was seemingly offered so freely to him. And he did, bending down, lapping at along the flesh—tasting and breathing in deeply the salty perspiration there.

Elena doesn't say a word.

Her eyes closed tight, feeling as his hands explored—undoing the buttons; and she helped by shrugging her blazer off, and helped by working her hands on him. Soft sounds. Murmurs of approval stemming from him regarding her cooperation…

It was all so…so…nice.

The way he nipped and soothed away places on her body, neck, shoulder, stomach (when he had laid her down), working his way to her breast. He had wanted to see her; to see _her_.

_Unclasping the hook of the bra…_

And she was so vulnerable beneath him, shaking---was it from fear?—from arousal?

Either way, the junction of her legs was now on his thigh, and she was rubbing back and forth (as discretely and as controlled as possible); the friction created there was _oh so delicious_, as she parted her mouth to pant lightly. "Mmmm…"

Rufus watched as she worked herself against him, _Elena coming undone, _her breathing coming in short hitches. The way that white skin of her flushed—spreading from her neck upwards, coloring her cheeks in rosy red.

He leaned down, now cooperating with her (she was leading)—her movements guiding them—as he encouraged, kissing more here and there…

Her hands on his belt buckle, working it apart and freeing him. And Rufus was ready for her—she had felt it the moment he had pulled her down to sit on him, but she had been so fervent in ignoring…

And he shifted, so now that he was positioned right there with her and now, pushed in—oh, so, slowly---savoring the way she responded. He bit back a groan, but it emerged, coming from deep in his throat--a rumbling, like soft thunder. And Rufus had never felt just sheer release; and with every movement he was losing…

He had never before lost composure, never---not with anybody in any moment…but Elena, _Elena had…_

He grips her hips, underwear still on her body (what a sight that was), and fucked her. Plain and simple. That was what it was, after all. Raw and hurtful.

And he tried to keep the movements controlled but she had wrapped her legs around him and said, "Go on," in between sounds of pleasures (the moaning and the sighing_…)_. All the erotic sounds pulling from her lips, spurring him on; the two of them, fucking like animals in heat (and maybe they were), and all sense went away except the deliriousness. _In and out._ The heat. _In and out. _The moment.

She gives a cry, her thighs suddenly tightened around him; and the sight of her coming does it for him---he presses as deeply as he could, spilling over everything—all his passion, all his energy, all of him---washing away in that instant.

And suddenly the world feels very heavy on top of Rufus's shoulder; and he collapses on top of her; both breathing like there wasn't enough air. Rufus feels his consciousness leave him; remembering only that it was her arms around him. Her hands tangled up in his hair.

* * *

It was a temporary bout of insanity. It had to be.

And after the fuss, they had gotten dressed; Elena re-knoting the formerly discarded tie around her collar. Rufus dusted himself off, as if ridding himself of any evidence of her being here. _A shame, really._

She turned to him, nodded—professional. Because she had to be. Because _this _had to be. And in some strange way, she felt that this was part of her job.

_That loyalty, again._

Elena had turned to walk away, when he suddenly had her by the arm, pulling her back into an embrace; and he had rested his head atop hers and breathed in deeply—the scent of lust that was mixed in there---and Elena knew that this would not be the last time.

She would have to make her peace with it.

* * *

It's a peculiar sort of double life—where she can't tell her friends or her immediate superior what she had spent her time doing. Or, as Reno would put it, _who _she was doing. Elena had been so opened before, but now there was a blank slate put there--all reserved for him.

And, it didn't seem fair.

They were in his house, that penthouse on 44th street---she had never even been to this district before--too rich for her taste. It was late afternoon, almost evening, and the sun had settled into a light golden red, cast across the horizon and into the opened patio window.

Rufus had made a bed for them, among the blankets he laid haphazardly down when she had appeared. And now, she was settled, sitting with her knees up, naked except for a sheet draped on her—her skin still coated with a sheen of sweat from their earlier lovemaking session (can she really call it love-making?).

Rufus was lying across her body, and had pulled the sheet downward, so that her breasts were exposed and he was suckling gently. His tongue and lips creating all sorts of sensations. Pleasant. And when he bit down, she gave a short exhale—still pleasant mixed in there with the pain.

"Ru--fus?" She still had a hard time correcting that habit of calling him 'sir.' But he seemed pleased whenever they did have the luxury for her to call him that.

"Hmmm?"

"Are you still going to see Miss Delaine?" She said, referring to another open interest of Rufus—this one was on the board in the WRO itself. A big fish.

He thinks it over and then asked, "Do _you_ want me not to?"

"No," she said, undoubtedly.

She wants him to go; having another leverage on the WRO was going to be a huge advantage for ShinRa---one that they needed at this crucial a stage in development. She gets it: the Big Picture.

And Rufus has to stop, and study her, marveling, running over the details: how she looked now, illuminated in the late afternoon light, short blonde hair all tussled, blanket wrapped around her---_all those night Goddesses—_and Rufus could feel his heart constrict. It was wondrous, how someone so plain and ordinary could look so…so…

Beautiful.

"You know how it is then, Elena."

"Yes, sir—Rufus." She corrects herself, smiling, before bending over to kiss his cheek.

And Rufus suddenly has to have her again.

This is how it was; just something to be done between a man and woman. And Elena doesn't fight against it, even if he was her superior and this was work code violation #34. It was natural. Easy. And at the end of the day, they went home separately.

Elena eases onto her back—she likes it here---it's comfortable; as Rufus rolls atop her, pressing his weigh lightly on her hips...

_It's okay, because it's not love._

He's moving inside her. Long, languishing strokes as he watches her.

_It's okay, because he's not Tseng. _Elena thinks. Even now, as she goes through the motion of sex with Rufus, she thinks of him…

Long black hair, stern solid eyes—gentle eyes. And she can picture it: Tseng being there with her, his arms giving her anchor while she's unabashed in her hunger. _Tseng, Tseng, Tseng…_

Like a mantra running through her head.

But when she comes, it was always Rufus's name on her lips.


	6. Chapter 5

**All the King's Men**

**Fandom:** Final Fantasy VII  
**Characters:** Elena, Rufus

**Rating:** M

**Disclaimer: **Property of Squaresoft. No money is being made off this.

**Chapter 5**

White light; like the entire world was one gigantic paper platter. And, she realizes, slowly blinking back into consciousness---the rings of her vision slowly taking in new colors—that she was staring at a ceiling fixture; a hospital.

Elena blinked rapidly, trying to discern what had happened in-between the time she had placed herself between Tseng and the bullet, and now. _Wire tubing's, heart monitor's beeping… _

And she thinks she sees someone she had wanted to see, upon waking: "Tseng?"

That he was there, sitting by her bedside, waiting for her to wake. And, in her blurred, not-quite focus state-of-being, she thinks she sees him.

"No, not Tseng," the voice of the figure tells her.

And she has to shake her head to finally make out who it is, "Rufus--sir? Wha—what are you doing here?"

He smiles at her and goes to sit by her bedside, taking her hand in his--glad to feel its warmth.

"Don't you have work?" she asks, still weak from having passed out for so long.

"Elena, I can always make time for you. So never mind that. How are you feeling?"

"I…I'm all right. Tired, I guess. Hungry too." She looks down, deciding, "Craving for yogurt."

And Rufus has to chuckle at this. He reaches his hand and goes about straightening her hospital bed-hair. There was a sweetness about her that he learned that he missed, having been so close to losing her (nothing he wanted to experience again).

* * *

The glass-window partition of the hospital was designed so that people could look in and not be seen---the same mirror-window that the Turk's interrogation rooms utilized. Tseng stared in from the outside at the scene that was being played before him; seeing the young President take Elena's hand, and she had looked at him with appeared to be gratefulness. And it's strange…

Perturbing, really.

As Tseng watched, his emotions were decidedly mixed. Strange, in that usually—in matters like this—Tseng felt nothing; and if he felt anything at all it should've been relief. But, no, of course he's glad that she was awake and that the extent of her injuries were so limited. He had thought for sure she had died back on that helicopter (he had carried her, personally, inside the hospital when the chopper had landed). But there was something else…

And he couldn't put his finger exactly on it. An odd feeling; like some ache, somewhere in his chest area. And there was a mental aspect to it; a slight headache.

Whatever he was feeling, it had disturbed him.

_Enough, _he thinks. He grabs his phone and begins dialing, turning and walking away from that glass partition. _I have work to do._

_

* * *

  
_

When Elena returned to work, the environment had noticeably changed. It was Tseng---the way he was treating her; relegating her to desk jobs (filing and secretarial work) on account of her disobeying orders. And the other Turks had treated her differently as well—because she was relegated to desk work.

Still…

She endures. Doesn't complain. Or, at least, tries not to. Because she was a Turk. And you kept your mouth shut when it came to falling in line.

She can't help but wonder though, if Rufus has had a little more to do with this than Tseng would let on…

* * *

"We're splitting the department."

"What?!" The Turks around the conference table all snapped to attention at Tseng's announcement.

Tseng continued, "After subsequent reviews, and much discussion on the board, a decision has been made to divide the Turks into an active field unit and a research-only unit. We've always had that division, but now we're making it official."

Elena gripped the edge of the table, nervous now. She had a feeling this would have something to do with her; more than a hunch.

"A waste of effort, if you ask me. There'll just be more paperwork, that's all, yo," said Reno, leaning his chair back—he wasn't taking this matter too seriously. It was an annoyance. Bureaucrats.

"I disagree," Tseng answered. "I've been in these review meetings, and from what I see, there will definitely be an improvement in the way we operate. In fact, I was the one who suggested it."

"You?!" Reno almost fell out of his seat at this revelation.

Elena kept her eyes firmly on Tseng, studying his features carefully—trying to discern what was being played here or who was being played.

"Yes. Why? Do you object to it, Reno?"

Tseng asked him pointblank, and Reno could recognize that tone: _fall in line. _"No, sir. I don't have a problem with it."

Tseng turned his attention to the rest of his subordinates. "Does anyone other have a problem with this?"

There was mumbling and more 'no's'.

Tseng nodded, satisfied, "Good." He went on further to announce, "Then everyone here should know that the new division will have equal importance as the field division. I've already made a nomination to the board about who should lead this new unit."

Reno turned into whisper (quite loudly) to Rude, "Someone's about to get a promotion."

"Elena."

She leveled a hard gaze at Tseng, "Sir?"

"I've nominated you for that position."

"What?!" Reno just couldn't stop being surprise today. "You're going to take Elena out of the field unit? She's was our goddamn life-support last time!"

"Reno! You're out of order!" Tseng tells him.

But Reno continued, pressing his point, "Out of order? I'm just telling you we're making a mistake…"

"Sit down!"

"She's good at what she does. And besides, if anyone deserves a promotion, it should be me!" He looked around at his coworkers, "Am I right? Besides Rude here, I'm the senior. And Rude doesn't want a promotion so I'll take the job."

Tseng can see right through this—how Reno was offering a show as a distraction; he didn't want the promotion. None of them did. People joined the Turk to get out of desk work. Reno was trying to save Elena. It was clear to any idiot with half a brain.

Throughout it all, Elena—the subject of the debate--sits, quiet. Her knuckles white.

Tseng tells them, "I've made my decision based on merits in regards to background work. Elena is the most qualified out of any of you. This was not a half-thought out nomination. Now you will respect that or you will get out." He said, addressing Reno directly with the last part.

And Reno has no choice but to sit down, crossing his arms in a weak show of defiance.

Then finally, a quiet voice, spoke out in the sudden silence. "Sir? If I may?"

Tseng looked at Elena. "What is it, Elena?"

And she weighs the next words very carefully, "What if I refuse? The nomination."

And the other Turks can't help but wonder if this was the first time that Tseng had encountered such blatant opposition in regards to his decisions.

Tseng lowers his head---_should he have some compunction about this? _He shuffles the paperwork away and tells her, "You don't have a choice. You've already got the job."


	7. Chapter 6

**All the King's Men**

**Fandom:** Final Fantasy VII  
**Characters:** Elena, Rufus  
**Rating:** M

**Disclaimer: **Property of Squaresoft. No money is being made off this.

**Chapter 6**

_FUCK!_

He had looked down.

_Fuck…_

And that's how she knew…

_Goddamnit all to hell!_

Tseng was lying. He had lied. _How long had he known?_ Perhaps from the very start, one can only assume. And yes, Elena was told that she had a tendency to be pretty damn naïve in the face of things. But why Tseng?

He was her superior and he had his orders. But he was Tseng; because in the end, it had always been _him_.

The one she had looked up to. No, much more than that…

But now…

Elena had nothing left. She had been pounding the wall hard enough to make her knuckles hurt bad; and she didn't care about the employees—those women who exited the stalls of the restroom casting odd sidelong glances at her. They could judge. They didn't know.

How Rufus had controlled all the invisible strings—and she started to fear the reaches that he had, the influence he exerted so effortlessly on her life (_what was next?)._ And Tseng, ever the meticulous Tseng, pulled off such a deceitful façade. And it wouldn't have bothered her, because yes, she understood he worked for his superior; but he had (or should have had) responsibilities towards her first; if only because she believed he gave a damn; that he could have trusted her enough to tell her.

It hurt. Damn right it hurt.

And now she had no one to turn to.

She leaned back against the wall and slid to down to sit on that cold tile floor; she just suddenly felt so tired and alone.

"What am I going to do?"

* * *

Silence. No one was home. At least not mid-afternoon. The apartment's owner was still at work and wasn't expected back till at least five p.m. that day. When the sound of people conversing outside came closer and keys were heard shuffling, inserted and twisted; followed by the knob then…

"Pays the rent on time. Really sweet girl."

A man in overalls (the office manager) opened the door, allowing the three of them: him along with Rufus and Regina, to peek in. "Well, here we are. Tenant Elena's crib. Feel free to take a look around."

Rufus took note of the space; it was dark inside—kind of golden brownish from sunlight escaping in through the closed blinds. He stepped inside with a strange sort of ease; there was an undue sense of familiarity with this space he had never been to before. Still, he looked at it now with wide open interest.

The manager, meanwhile, was still flustered at this unexpected meeting with Shinra himself. Imagine, meeting the man who once (and some would say, still does) ran the world. He had only been, seconds before opening the door, regaling the President with small, offbeat comments about the tenant who lived here.

Regina followed faithfully behind Rufus. She immediately was taken aback by the strong smell that had built and occupied the apartment; quickly pulling out handkerchief and covering her nose from the smell, remarking, "Ugh, smells like…leftover chicken in here. Doesn't she air this place out?"

Rufus chuckled, "Well, least we know now not to ask her to cook."

The manager eyed Rufus, curiously. "May I ask?"

They looked at him; a secondary interest. The man, after all, was just a tool; and he took their silence as consent to continue. "What's your interest in her anyways?"

One too many questions.

Rufus cast a sideway glance at Regina, and she understood the signal; the tool was no longer needed. "Thank you for your help, sir," Regina went up to the manager and started to hustle him out of the apartment.

"What that's it?" he asked, surprised at the suddenness at which he was forced out.

"The President wants you to know that he appreciates all your help today…" Regina said, recycling lines that she had said so many times before; while, she flipped her binder and pulled out a checkbook, jotting quickly; then ripped out the check and offered it, finishing, "…and for your _discretion_. Of course."

The manager, who had no clue what was happening, had taken what was offered to him; saw the number written there and immediately understood, his eyes gleaming. "Of course…full discretion." he croaked, sweating. He was giddy.

He looked to Rufus, "Thank you, sir. Oh, thank you. If you need anything else, anything at all, just ask and uh…"

"Right. Don't worry, we will. Bye bye now,"" Regina said, shoveling the manager out and then slamming the door on him. She then shivered---in something akin to disgust; and said, "Ugh, people."

Rufus smirked. "You pay the crowd, Regina. You pay the crowd."

He stepped around the apartment, taking note of the cramp, personal style of living; the dirty floors, clothes (_panties and bra shamelessly let out in the open_), instant food cups—junk strewn about.

"Not the cleanest person in world, is she?" Regina remarked, running her finger on the display table, dust collecting on her fingertips.

"No."

She must've been too busy, he figured. Throwing herself at her work. It wasn't surprising then to learn of this; how messy and disorganized her personal life was (he had paid attention to her fingernails—no pedicures, rough).

"When will they be here?" he asked, somewhat absently as he went to take a look at the mantel above the television set.

"Should be arriving in about an hour. I've already called in to check."

"Good."

And then Rufus gave an uncharacteristic smile—uncharacteristic in that it was genuine; he was looking at the pictures she had sitting on the mantel; photos of her graduation, with her family, fishing with the Turks. Personal. Confidential. Intimate details that he was now privy to.

And he especially liked one particular photo; he picked up the frame to admire it: Elena, age six, posing for a school camera. Goofy grin with her front teeth missing.

_Pleasantly cute._

Rufus dislodges the back of the frame and takes photo out from its protective covering. And he closed his eyes, bringing the photo to his nose and inhaled, as if there was a bit of her there. _I think I'll keep this one._

"Uh, sir?" said Regina, tentatively interrupting Rufus's reverie.

"Hmm?"

"I just a call that the movers are here. They're early."

* * *

"What the hell is going on around here?"

Elena thinks her nerves are standing on end; and she can almost picture her hair must be standing up, like one of those Saturday morning cartoons when a character gets unbelievably angry.

She had seen the trucks, parked in the apartment complex (those moving vans), and thought nothing of it; this was a pretty crappy place to live so she wasn't surprised that people were always moving in and out. Then she realized _who's _stuff the movers were hauling…

Hers.

_Couches, TV, wardrobe…_everything.

And she goes, furious, to one of the men—the one with the clipboard, directing the movers (he looked like he would have answers), and demanded, "Hey! Where the hell am I moving to? And who the fuck authorized this?"

He squints at her. "Hey, whoa little lady…"

Elena explodes; she can't believe the audacity of this guy—these people. "Don't you fucken little lady me. Do you have idea who you're dealing with? Or of how many trespassing laws your breaking right now?!"

Her voice must've been hoarse from all the punctuating.

But the man looks nonplussed. "Hey, I'm just the guy taking the orders, all right?" he said, putting his hands up in a show of surrender. "Don't go getting all huffy at me."

"Fine," she gives. "Who ordered this, then?"

Rufus Shinra stood by the glass sliding door of Elena's second story apartment, watching the movers work down below; he mused over the small item in his hands. He was pleased, yes with what he was intending to do. But to think of the circumstances that had led up to this was…slightly unpleasant.

_She had woken up in the hospital calling his name…_

Not that he was too concerned with what little competition he had with the _other man_. Still, when it came to Elena, safeguards had to put in place with regards to her affections for _him_.

And he had moved quickly. Ruthlessly.

The creation of an entirely new division within three month time frame had been entirely unheard in ShinRa. Rufus had accomplished it in less than a month; and this had served the twofold purpose of ensuring her safety and keeping her at distance from _him. _He couldn't turn a blind eye to her little girlish infatuation any longer.

_She had called out his name..._

And now there was this…

And Rufus had decided that, fine, he'll give up the dalliances, the required pedigree, all the condescension that came with his station; it was a small price to pay for her fidelity.

That's was when Elena's car had pulled up into the parking and he had seen her get out; the time for debating was over.

* * *

"Rufus!"

It was the first time she hadn't called him 'sir' before correcting herself; and, in a sick, perverse way, he thinks they're making progress; it makes him smile.

She had just come through the door in time to see the last mover exit with a box of her stuff—she could see the pink ears of the huge stuff animal Reno had won her at the spring fair two years earlier; all of what was home now emptied.

Ahead of her, Rufus hadn't moved from by the sliding doors; his back to her. Regina, on the other hand, looked up from her PDA and greeted her, "Ah, Miss Elena. You're home early."

She looked between the two (what kind of game was he playing?). "Sir," she began, addressing the title for the sake of appearances—Regina was in the room. "May I ask…"

But Rufus had anticipated her and interjected, "You're wondering what's the meaning of this? Why had I arrange this, correct?"

She flustered—breathing heavily and very upset. "Well, YES! Why did you move my things without asking me?!"

"Where." He said, without turning around to face her.

_Huh? _"What?"

"The question you should be asking is where. Where have I moved your things?"

"What...?" _What was he getting at?_ Peeved, she started, "I don't care where you moved my stuff, just move it back!"

At this he turned so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that she actually flinched.

And she can't help but think, angrily, of how this was her house. And yet this…this man---this uninvited _burglar_ really---had waltz in and managed, with just one movement, to intimidate her; in her own house!

But she can't help it. Years of conditioning had her cowering at all the right moments.

And, as he approaches her, she feels a rising unease, lessening the angry to a point of almost helplessness.

She swallows hard and looks at him (he's right in front of her now, towering over her)--eye to eye, if only to prove to herself that she had some ounce of dignity left.

"You should've asked where," he tells her, soft. Almost playful.

And she feels like crying. Didn't he sense how upset she was? Standing her in her empty living room…

Instead, he smiles and looks down—as if everything she had done since she had walked through that door had been expected; that she had followed her role in rote.

"Sir," she practically begs, "I just want to know some answers. Please."

He looks at her. Debates how he should say it; then decides, "I want to show you something." And now, opened his hand to reveal a small velvet case, which he then snapped open, unveiling a modest ring---excepting that it had the most gorgeous diamond design as its centerpiece; the sight of which floors Elena.

And suddenly the question of why he had moved her things didn't seem so important; if only because now, his intentions were clear.

He likes her reaction; thinking he had kept the surprise element of this ritual intact.

"What do you think?" he asked her.

She doesn't know what to say; not even sure if she's actually here at the moment—she feels so far away…

"It was my mother's," he said, and then he looked down to admire the ring. "The diamond was a part of the eye on the original Shiva Incarnate statues in the ancient lands." A pause, then to her: "Do you like it?"

And she's too stunned to respond, managing a weak, "Huh?"

He leaned in then, to whisper softly into her ear, telling her, "It's yours."

And just like that, the spell was broken; she stuttered---waking for the stupor, "Wha—wa---no!"

It's a desperate, reactionary kind of 'no,' that puts a frown of annoyance on Rufus's face; and he asks, "Why not?"

_Why not?!_

Her mind seems to scream at her. There were a million different reasons; not excluding this bad feeling that seemed to emerged from the pit of her stomach.

And she can't formulate her thoughts coherently enough; so she tells him the first thing on her mind, "Well, for one, we can't go get…"

She suddenly remembers that they're not alone; her eyes shifting a little slightly to see Regina standing where she had when Elena first walked in---seemingly unmoved and unperturbed by what she held witness to.

Rufus's follows Elena's line of sight to Regina and knows what Elena's concerns are; he tells her, as if reassuring, "It's okay. She knows."

"She—what?!"

Elena can't believe it.

But Rufus continues--completely ignoring Elena's growing disbelief at his disregard for her say in this. He tells her, "She's my assistant, of course she knows. And soon…so will all of world—once you say yes, that is."

"I can't say yes."

"I'm inclined to ask in this instance why the refusal?"

She could see that he was getting impatient with her. But she insisted, pressing on---her eyes darting back and forth between Regina and Rufus (oh how she wished the other girl wasn't in this room for this). "Well, for one, we can't go get married to each other just because I happen to be pregnant. We don't even love…"

_Each other..._

She wants to say.

But it sounds too silly; almost ridiculous. But suddenly, she has to know, asking, unsure, "Do we?"

And he seems to amuse by her—this antic that she's putting up. But he indulges her, taking her hand and telling her, "That isn't an issue, Elena."

He leans in to tell her, soft; his eyes filled with determination. "I can make myself love you."

And the way he says it implied: _With you, it isn't that hard…_

Affectionate. Full of potential to love, if not already there…

And suddenly she can't breathe.

Rufus takes her sharp inhalation—that momentarily pause, as an opportunity to press his point; suddenly taking a hold of her and pulling her flush against his body, and draws her into a kiss, so deep and passionate that Elena's finds herself feeling weak—unable to fight against it. And she's aware that Regina is there, but she can't help that soft sound that she makes—a whimper.

_He had trained her body to react all too well to him…_

One kiss was all it took to have a flush of sexual arousal wash over her body; and she was ashamed of how weak she had become. _It's not fair, _she thinks. _It's not fair._

And when they part, she's too stunned to move; so he simply holds her, letting all the feelings, all the confusion and the torrential emotions absorb in her.

"Say yes, Elena," he insisted. There was an unmistakable tone of tenderness in his voice when he requested again, "Say yes."

And when she's finally coherent again, she finds the courage to pull away, telling him, "No…"

"No?"

She's already taking a few unsteady steps back. Shaking her head; looking so lost. "I want…my stuff back. I want my job back…"

She feels like crying. _It's not fair._

And Rufus looks at her, regarding her in the same way a parental figure would a wayward child: "Elena…."

"I want my life back!"

She's at the door, and she can't get out fast enough; running down the steps and then boots hitting the pavement as she goes; far, far, as far as she can get away from here. But where?

He had turned her away from her only home.

***

Notes:

I wanted to interject here to thank the readers who have been following this story thus far. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Please do leave a review, comments, criticism (be it positive or negative); I enjoy reading them and learning what your feelings are in regards to the story while it's developing.

Also, I went back to rewrite this chapter because I wasn't satisfied with the way the first version went. It didn't convey the characters quite as accurately as I had hoped---I was too burned out by the end of the weekend, having written so many chapters for my other fic (yes, I have a LOT of free time). I think it's worth it though; going back to refine this chapter. I like it much better this way.

Again, thanks for reading and I hope you stick around for the ending; I already have the whole story arch figured out so this won't be one of those fics that leave you 'half-dangling,' sort-of-speak.


	8. Chapter 7

**All the King's Men**

**Fandom:** Final Fantasy VII  
**Characters:** Elena, Rufus  
**Rating:** M

**Disclaimer: **Property of Squaresoft. No money is being made off this.

**Chapter 7**

"Well, that didn't go well."

They returned to ShinRa headquarters, now walking into Rufus's office when Regina had said that---remarking on what had followed earlier. _Messy_, should be the right adjective.

She was tired, as if watching the movers had tired her out; like she had been the one moving house herself. And Regina allows herself a sigh; being the President's personal confidant (as she was she was now seeing all that) had put her at enough ease to express that much.

She noted the President's countenance—his general attitude as she joined him at his desk; it was remarkable, how he could be so unaffected and calm, as if nothing had happened. _Business as usual._

"If you don't mind me asking, sir," she's emboldened. "You don't seem so concerned."

"That's because I'm not," he said, taking a seat and pulling out the work that had piled on his desk---work orders that needed his signature and approval, a whole committee to oversee…

She's quiet.

Rufus glanced up from his paperwork and clarifies himself without her asking. "Given time, she'll come around to the idea. She's just..."

Here, he can't help but sigh a little—tired; pursuing Elena, he conceded, had exhausted him somewhat. He had assumed it would've been easier, but…_she had given chase…_

"Confused," he finally decides. "She's overwhelmed. You know, etcetera, etcetera."

He waves it off, dismisses it and tells her, "That's the details. But, I'm a patient man and determined."

_Determined…_

And Regina wonders aloud, "Oh, why is that?"

_Why did this one matter?_ Her question implied.

How did _this _pursuit differ from any of those numerous others? Why was the President willing to expend his time and energy?

It didn't make any sense.

Rufus Shinra, she figures, has enough money and influence to make small details, the pregnancy and such, disappear. So why bother?

"One of among several many offenses I held against my father…" Rufus began to explain. "Was that he had my brother."

He stops, considering.

Then he looked up---a cool vindictiveness there, and asked, "Can you imagine that? A _bastard_ child of a ShinRa president. Have you heard of such a thing?" And there was such callousness in his voice; as if saying that aloud had made his father's transgression all the more pronounced; all the poignant.

He was looking at her, and she suddenly realizes that this wasn't a rhetorical question. So she gives him an answer--the one he wants to hear:

"No sir, I don't suppose I have."

There were some secrets—the inner workings of the powerful, for instance—Regina doesn't want to be involved with; she doesn't want to change or challenge it, because challenging something you didn't truly understand would've been near suicidal in this instance.

But still…

Regina's line of questioning had unwittingly sparked something; and Rufus couldn't help ponder, tapping his pen against his lip idly; was it true what he just said? Was that the only reason why?

And he had given thought to it before.

He turned his chair away from Regina to face the glass window that looked out on his city—because really, this was _his _city.

And sure, marrying her had the added benefit of ensuring _that_ mistake wouldn't occur again. But all that was in additionto what had truly mattered; Rufus reached into his breast pocket, retrieving the photograph from earlier—his hand tracing over the flat rendition, the lines that made up the details of her face.

And Rufus asked himself, glancing out to consider the city that they (those children) would inherit---he asked, had it been any other woman besides her, would he have care so much?

The truth was_, probably not._

_

* * *

  
_

Elena flexed her toes in her borrowed socks; and she stretches in these borrowed pajamas that were one size too large for her; the shoulder area falls off one side---she has to constantly adjust it---for modesty's sake.

Nothing fit her all too right because nothing was hers to begin with; all that had been hauled away.

But still…

She's grateful; grateful that she doesn't have to spend the night in as impersonal a space as a motel room; grateful that she had this time to relax—no matter how short; and, most of all, she was grateful for the company, even if she couldn't talk about what really bothered her. At this thought, she looked over to the kitchen area where said company was currently mixing margaritas, grinding the ice noisily in a blender….

Reno winked at her from the kitchen, looking just as relaxed in a white long sleeve shirt and those bedtime shorts with innuendos drawn all over them; his pale—bleached white, skinny legs sticking out, awkward and lanky (she had never seen them so exposed before). Whatever he lacked in grace though, he made up in an overwhelming sense of confidence and quirkiness; walking over to her now, and handing her the drinks.

"Thank you, Reno." She smiles warmly at him.

"Any time, babe," he said, joining her---sitting down with his legs splayed out on the white furred rug in the middle of his living room. The whole place had a decided kitsch-y feel to it; not excluding this extravagant rug whose short hair felt luxuriant beneath her fingertips---and bouncy too.

He had gotten a fire started for them, closed the drape so that the room filled with a rosy red, orange-y color, warm (romantic) and, had she not known Reno, she would've thought that he was trying to seduce her.

But she did know him, and knew that this was just his way of playing around.

_Gosh woman, do you have to act like a guy all the time?_

His eyes looked her over, noting, "You know, Elena. You look very sexy wearing my pajamas."

"Shut up," she tossed back, laughing, knowing he was teasing her again.

"No. I'm serious. You pull off that pouty tomboy look really well." He licked his lips to emphasis his point; taking noticed how she was playing with the fur of the rug between her fingers, and getting an evil thought; asking her lasciviously. "You like it?"

"Huh?"

"That's real fur, yo. See…we can roll around in it," he said, putting down his glass; then illustrating his point by rubbing his face against the rug, and rubbing his body along it in a sensuous manner. "Do all kinds of _stuff_. Nasty stuff. Dirty stuff..."

Had Elena not hung out with him for so long (been one of the boys for so long), it would've made her blushed. As it was, it just had her laughing in all the right ways.

"Anything you like, baby, I can deliver," he said, going to her, purring. "I could be your pillow if you like."

Elena wrinkled her nose and pushed him away, playful. "Ew, gross. If this is your skills when it comes to seducing women, I think you should rethink your gameplan."

But Reno had just rebounded when she pushed him, and was suddenly all up on her, knocking her over and getting atop her like an excited dog. "Come on, darling," he said, "Kiss me, yo."

He leaned down then and tried to kiss her---succeeding in planting two sloppy kisses on her cheeks before she managed to place her knee under his stomach and dislodge him, in between fits of laughter. "Ewww…get off me, Reno."

"Aw fine," he pouted, sitting back on his haunches.

Then he frowned, "You're telling me, you didn't come all the way over here to seduce me, yo? I can tell you were trying to get into my pants."

"Oh, Reno," he began, falsetto voice, trying to imitate her appearance from earlier (when she had shown up at his place looking like a lost puppy). "Some thugs broke into my place and took all my things. I got nowhere else to go. Can I stay at your place for the night?" Normal voice. "If that's not a 'let's get freaky invitation,' I don't know what is."

She laughed, disbelieving how determined he was with this, "No, no no. I was robbed. Seriously."

She emphasis her next point, stressing, "_Believe me, _I didn't come here looking to have sex with you."

"Fine," He sighed, settling back; done with teasing her for the moment. "Least I offered."

* * *

Sure, he flirted with her, but it was all in good jest. She was more like a little sister to him than anything; after all, he had been the one to show her the ropes when she was merely a 'baby' Turk starting out and all confused; Reno glanced at her, deciding, yeah, she's definitely changed. Matured a bit.

He can't lie. It had crossed his mind once are twice in the past; and, yeah, if she reciprocated than maybe…

_I supposed it would've been a different story…but…oh wells…_

As it was, Reno liked their relationship; wouldn't trade it for anything.

"So, uh, Elena," he started, clearing his throat—his way of starting out a serious discussion; she took notice and turn slightly, to eye him, wary. "You have something you wanna say to me---you should just say it, yo."

"What?"

_Did he know?_

Reno leaned on his elbow and raised his eyebrows, expectant. He knew something was off, but he doesn't know exactly what…

The latest shuffling in the ShinRa corporate gossip mill was that something big was happening; starting from the very top of the executive food-chain going all the way to the bottom rung. And no one knew what it was.

But Reno had been observant; at least, observant enough to notice that at that a lot of the shuffling—the unease of which--seemed to center on one particular person…

Elena.

And now, he was waiting for her to come out with it (voluntarily), because he was much more than a coworker—he figured; he was her comrade; and because, he'd figured he'd earn as much from her.

There was that hesitation. Elena bit her bottom lip, debating whether or not she could…

What that would've risk…

Reno wouldn't believe her.

"_You managed to do what?!"_ She could imagine him, bugged-eyed at her confession: _The president?!_ A little tomboy like her.

_But_, she thinks, looking down, _I didn't set out to do anything like that. It just sort happened._

"Nothing," she settles; because it's easier---though she's dying for a soul to confide in. Unlike Rufus, who had no qualms about revealing their relationship to an assistant (an assistant!), she couldn't even tell her friend; not when she hadn't decided what to do---and because she knew Rufus would've wanted it on his own terms; that by admitting aloud that she was having his child, somehow negating 'choice' when it came to marrying him—it felt like that was the reality of it.

And she wasn't sure she was ready to give up that choice just yet…

"Nothing? You sure?" he asked, giving her a last chance; one last lifeline. His eyebrows arch. _Come on, Elena. Reach for it._

And she looks at him, tempted; but then looks away.

He shrugged. "Don't tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

* * *

She's a horrible liar. Years of being a Turk still hadn't changed that; too honest; still too naïve. But these were the same traits that made her endearing…

Reno wasn't one to dwell on things too long and he saw that her mood had shifted—now all downcast. He changed the subject. "Well, can't say I didn't try. So what do you want to do tonight if you didn't want to get freaky?"

He was trying to be light again; and she was glad for it.

"Mmmm…" Elena considered, and then offered, "How about popcorn and a movie?"


End file.
